


Regnum Defende

by Barcardivodka



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Pre-Series, Season/Series 09 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barcardivodka/pseuds/Barcardivodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dakar. 1995. Harry Pearce offers a young man caught in Vaughn Edwards tangled snare a way out.  John Bateman is on the verge of unknowingly making a decision that will plunge him into a life that does not belong to him, one that will ultimately destroy him and, quite possibly, Harry himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regnum Defende

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to my valiant betas, who really do try so hard to improve my writing. Any mistakes or spelling errors are mine and mine alone, so please do not steal them.
> 
> A pre-series what if based on dialogue from season 9.

**Season 9 Episode 7**

My name isn’t Lucas North. My name is John Bateman.

**Season 9 Episode 8**

Harry Pearce: _Wish you’d met me first._

John Bateman/Lucas North: _So do I._

 

 

Harry Pearce watched as Vaughn Edwards passed a package to a taller, younger man that Harry now knew was John Bateman, a British student. Harry could hear the faint sound of laughter as Edwards slapped Bateman’s shoulder and walked off. Bateman stared after Edwards for a moment, then slipped the package into his jacket pocket and stalked off in the opposite direction. Harry followed him.

When Section D had received intel that the British Embassy in Dakar was a possible target for a terrorist attack, Harry had decided to check it out himself. Dakar was a melting pot of secret service agents from virtually every country, and Harry did not want to chance an investigation into a currently unsubstantiated claim sparking off something that could have far worse repercussions.

Harry hadn’t been surprised to see Vaughn Edwards in the thick of things. Edwards was known for working for anyone who met his price. He also liked to recruit desperate young men to do his bidding, keeping himself a step or two away from any possible consequences.  Harry had seen Edwards corrupt and destroy more lives than he cared to count.  Just for once, Harry wanted to snatch one of those lives away from Edwards.

John Bateman was typical of the young men Edwards had a nose for finding: young, stupid, and impulsive.  Bateman had arrived in Dakar with another British student who fancied himself a drug dealer, importing cannabis into Hamburg. Only the deal went wrong when the military police stumbled onto their activities. Luckily for the young Brits, the police were open to bribery and left the two young men with only the clothes they were wearing. Money, drugs, passports, everything was taken, leaving them stranded in Dakar.

Bateman’s companion disappeared and Bateman was left taking a job in a casino to pay for a replacement passport and ticket home. It would have taken him quite a while to save enough money to get him back to England, especially if he wanted some place safe to sleep and to eat fairly regularly.

Then Edwards had swooped in with his tale of being in the export business and hints of being a British spy engaged in deniable errands. Bateman had fallen for it, saw only the excitement, the adrenaline rush and, of course, the money Edwards paid him. Bateman now had more than enough to get home.

The background check Harry had done on Bateman showed a bored, intelligent young man yearning for something more than a life sat in an office, but with a moral compass that still needed a firm, steady hand to guide it.

Edwards was setting Bateman up to take the fall for something, Harry was certain of it, and Bateman was slowly bending to Edwards’s ethics, or lack thereof.

"Mr Bateman?” Harry called out, just as they reached the edge of the main market place. Bateman turned to look at him warily.

“Yes,” he replied cautiously.

“I’m Samuel Jenkins.” Harry pulled out an ID badge. “Embassy security.”

“What do you want with me?”

“You are a British subject are you not, Mr Bateman? Your association with Mr Edwards has caused some concern.” Harry watched as Bateman struggled with the decision to run or bluff his way out of trouble. That was the good thing about the young; they hadn’t yet mastered their emotions or their body language. Bateman may as well have shouted his intentions in Harry’s face. “If you run, John, you will never set foot in the UK again and I will see to it personally that you waste a decade of your life in a Dakar prison,” Harry warned. With the slump of Bateman’s shoulders, Harry grasped his elbow and steered him away from the market and towards the entrance of a narrow alleyway.

Harry reached into this jacket pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. He passed it to Bateman, who took it in bewilderment. “The envelope contains a replacement passport and a plane ticket to England. The flight leaves at 8pm,” Harry said.

“Why… why would you do this?” Bateman asked, as he looked up from examining the envelope’s contents.

“Vaughn Edwards isn’t who you think he is, John,” Harry replied. “He will wring everything he can out of you and then he’ll set you adrift. He will keep coming back again and again throughout your life to ask you to do things. He will blackmail you with your past dealings with him to force you to do whatever he wants. You will never be free from him. I know this seems exciting to you and this kind of life is appealing, but you need to grow up, John, before you cross the line and can’t ever find your way back across it,” Harry cautioned.

“I’m only delivering packages. I’m just a courier. What’s the harm in that?” Bateman questioned with false bravado, his gaze never quite meeting Harry’s.

“Delivering packages isn’t going to be enough for you soon,” Harry replied. “You’re a killer, John.” Bateman shook his head vehemently. “Yes, John. You’ve got that darkness in your soul. I have it, Vaughn has it. What you need to decide, is that when you make your first kill, will it be an innocent or in defence of them?”

Harry pulled a white business card from his jacket packet and handed it to the shocked Bateman. It had the name ‘Samuel Jenkins’ printed on it, with a UK landline number underneath.

“Go home. Finish your studies. Once you’ve graduated, join the armed forces or call this number. Don’t waste your life, John. Make it mean something worthwhile.” Harry turned and walked towards the market without a backward glance.

There was nothing more he could say or do. John Bateman had to make his own decision now. Harry’s fingers curled round the package he had taken out of Bateman’s jacket pocket without the younger man noticing. He sincerely hoped that Bateman didn’t return to Vaughn and confess its loss. It would be a quick, cruel, and painful lesson the younger man would learn at the hands of Vaughn. It would also cast doubt on Bateman’s loyalty and commitment, and Harry hoped that, if Bateman decided not to return to England, Vaughn would cut him free regardless. Away from Vaughn’s influence and with nothing to keep him in Dakar, Bateman may return home. Harry may still yet snatch a life from Vaughn.

 

 

**2015 The Grid, Section D, MI5, London**

“Harry?”

Harry turned round with a start to find John Bateman frowning at him in concern from the door of his office.

“John,” he smiled. “Sorry, I was miles away there.”

“Somewhere pleasant I hope?” John replied, returning the smile.

“Just reminiscing, but it did have a happy ending,” Harry responded. “What can I do for you?”

“Malcolm came up with another possible address for Anders. Roz and I are going to check it out.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Report in once you get there,” Harry looked out into the hub of the section and saw only Malcolm working away. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Tom and Danny are on their way back to the Grid. Jo and Zaf have gone to relieve them,” John replied.

“Of course.” Harry smiled. “Don’t forget the section heads meeting tomorrow morning, John. You’ve managed to be absent from the last two. Your attendance will be required this time,” Harry warned.

He smiled again as, with a grimace of defeat, John left the office and joined the waiting Roz Myers by the pods.

With a last look at the outer office, Harry returned to reading his emails. He still couldn’t quite believe that the gangly youth of twenty years ago, who so very nearly chose the wrong path, was now the Section Chief and had been for a number of years. John had certainly grown into his height and width of shoulders over that time, becoming an intimidating figure if he chose to. He had also gathered a formidable team. They had faced injury, pain, and loss together and, in John’s case, a month of relentless torture by the Russians before Harry and the team had been able to extract him when he was being moved from FSB headquarters to a more secure and long-term prison.

John Bateman was the best Harry had ever worked with and some days he wondered what would have become of the man if he hadn’t decided to investigate the Dakar intel himself.

Would John Bateman be the defender of the realm, a protector of the innocent, as he was now, or would he have followed Vaughn Edwards into purgatory?

Harry shook his head at where his thoughts had taken him.

With Harry’s intervention or not John would have still have become the man he was today.

To think otherwise was preposterous.

 

Wasn’t it?

**  
  
**


End file.
